


antithesis

by sundowns



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 19:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundowns/pseuds/sundowns
Summary: The day after Iwaizumi graduates, his best friend helps him by making a list of his ideal type in search for getting him a partner. Oikawa barely fits into it.





	antithesis

**Author's Note:**

> yikes the academic season in japan i wrote about is so wrong so, let's just assume... lol i apologize i had written this before i did some important research (smh @ myself)

It has been well over a week since graduation took place.

With university papers all settled, Oikawa lies in his family's backyard with Iwaizumi, all but basking into the humidity of the summer heat. There hasn't been anything much to do, save for the frequent volleyball practices at the public gym, but even Mondays are reserved for rest days during vacation.

Oikawa observes Iwaizumi lying parallel to him, watches how sweat gleams his desert sand skin, and feels the hair on his nape tingle. There is something funny about him being caught off-guard, because Iwaizumi looks dumb impassively staring at the ceiling with an improvised fan ripped from carton indolently swinging in his hand.

He decides to break the cicada sounds in the background.

“Say, Iwa-chan.”

“Mn.” He gets a noncommittal hum in response. Iwaizumi’s gaze never breaks the complicated arrangement of beams up ahead.

“Since we'll be going to different universities,” Oikawa drones, and then swallows with the thoughts of final decisions never to change by mere papers. “We should do something fun for the summer.”

There's this bizarre saying Oikawa has heard from an underclassman in the photography club, when it had been at the tip of graduation, and strangely enough, he remembers such silly sentiment very fondly:

 _“Summers are not meant for activities but lounging around air-conditioned rooms. What's fun in sweating in humid air? If anything, grueling things should be done in the winter!”—_ nonetheless, Oikawa waits for Iwaizumi's answer, the customary—

“ _Like what?_ ”

—and he snorts at that.

“Since when did you last have a girlfriend?” Oikawa smirks and it's more like a defense mechanism. “You need to loosen up and have the great Oikawa-sama bequeath his help upon you.”

“Fancy words can’t sway me,” Iwaizumi grumbles. He hasn't moved from his position yet. “And don't be shit about it.”

“C'mon, caveman-san, I know you want a girlfriend.”

“I _don't_ want a girlfriend, Oikawa.”

“How boring.” Oikawa _pfft_ s and props his chin on his hand. “A _boyfriend,_ then?”

All he obtains are unintelligible mumbles, and Oikawa almost gets his hope the best of him in the deliberation until Iwaizumi says a vexed, “ _No._ ”

 _Ah._  Oikawa chuckles again, but this time, it makes Iwaizumi sit up and look at him.

“Do you want to grow up an old, rotten, single man, then?”

“ _Do you_?” Iwaizumi retorts.

“Well, if _you_ want to grow up single and ugly and old, I can accompany you in your stale life journey, Iwa-chan.” He says it teasingly, of course, but indulging in the genuine sentiment of it is what he doesn’t show.

Iwaizumi only chuckles at this and scoots closer to him; Oikawa tries not to notice that their knees almost touch and gazes at him curiously.

“Okay, what's on your mind?”

“I was just thinking...” he pretends to deliberate, _just pretending_ , because it'd be strange if he just blurts out what he’s been thinking about the past week, the past _however-long-it-is_. “Like, _what if_ , we make a list of our ideal types. Meet people along, evaluate and filter them until we meet the desired scale of a model love interest, then we date them.”

“You say _what if_ when it becomes granted even if I say _no_ , you say _we_  but you only do your stupid experiments on  _me_.” Oikawa laughs maniacally at this and his protests die down. “Also,  _filtering_  people is such improper concept, Oikawa.”

“But isn't that what people do everyday?” He protests loudly this time and harrumphs like a kid that needs appeasing. “You just decide that it’s improper when you say it aloud.”

Iwaizumi pauses; Oikawa grins because he knows he has a point. “Okay.”

“What's that ' _okay_ ' for? Do you say yes to my proposal?”

“Well, even if it's this silly and I'm conspicuous of everything you do, maybe it'll work out.” Iwaizumi shrugs.

“Ah. So, you _are_  keen in finding a girlfriend, then.”

Iwaizumi avoids eye-contact and Oikawa's stomach only drops by a millimeter.

“It doesn't need to be a girlfriend... or whatever. Just do what helps you get that stupid thing out of your system.”

But the thing is, the _stupid thing in his system_  might be far related to this _experiment_ , and that it might never ever be gotten out in the first place—never even had the chance to—and it's why no one in the world besides himself knows about it.

“Yeah, I—well, _whatever_. Should we get on to it?” And just in the perfect occurrence, he finds a notepad and a pen on the lawn table. He grabs that one too and drags it in between them; Iwaizumi scoots back, the space growing from millimeters to centimeters, and Oikawa thinks: _just about right_.

 

**Iwa-chan's deflowering list**

 

Oikawa writes it like that and cackles when Iwaizumi scribbles harsh lines over it, because _'what if it drops and someone sees it?'_

 **(Bad at titles): A list of Iwa-chan's ideal partner** , is what Oikawa replaces instead, because he's really bad at titles, not poetic enough to just deliver a short one but rather the long and literal.

“First things first. _Alright_ , what is first on the list, Iwa-chan? A good-looking person?” He bats his eyelids. “Do you need someone aesthetically pleasing to look at?”

“Looks don't matter as long as I like their personality.”

Oikawa leans back. “You sure are one bland caveman. _Next_.”

Iwaizumi pointedly looks at him. “ _Well_ , I guess someone who's not insufferable would be nice.”

“ _Someone not insufferable._ ” Oikawa bullets the first one down, ignoring him. “What else? What about physical preferences? Like, their _fashion sense_? Their height?”

“Does the fashion really matter?”

“It's crucial!” He pounds on the table as if he's trying to get the thought into Iwaizumi's thick head. “You’re a millennial. You don't want to date someone dressed in 4000 BC.”

Iwaizumi cackles within a long minute and Oikawa watches him laugh away with a proud twinge in his heart. “Comfortable outfits? Just those who dress simply, I guess.”

Oikawa snorts, because it's amusing how he just naturally equates himself to it, how spectacular he always dresses himself, but it's not like he cares or anything  _(a matching eye roll)._  “Iwa-chan is so simple-minded.”

“ _Oi_.”

“Don't be distracted, Iwa-chan,” he sing-songs, tapping his pen on the mahogany surface. “I was asking about height preference.”

Iwaizumi perks up at this. “Oh, I've always wanted a partner shorter than me.”

“Ah,” Oikawa mutters quietly, writing that one down,  _Someone shorter_ , and wonders briefly if there's ever a drug to shrink one's height. He doesn't notice his silence hauls quite long until Iwaizumi looks at him curiously. “Of course you'd need a confidence booster on your height, Iwa-chan. A shorter partner would be ideal since you’re a midget.”

He yelps when he feels a sharp kick to his foot.

“Alright, then, cut this shit and make one for yourself instead, dumbass.”

“Nah.” Oikawa flips him off. “I don't need a list for myself, because, I, the great Oikawa-san knows what he wants when he sees one.”

“You're so full of shit.”

Oikawa chuckles at that and flips on to the next page. The leaf size of this notepad is too small. “ _Okay_ , then other preferences about personalities?”

Iwaizumi thoroughly considers about this; Oikawa doesn't need to wonder, Iwaizumi's always been discrete about personalities enough to match with his. And Oikawa... well, he can only hope by venturing into his idealized choices.

 

  * _Someone so fussy I want to take care of_



 

  * _Someone disgustingly narcissistic it makes me laugh how ridiculous they sound_



 

  * _And a little lacking of self-esteem behind curtains, so I can proudly boost their confidence_



 

  * _Someone strong enough to break my head on a daily, but it's okay, because strength is malleable in its terms_



 

“Someone humble, or like, gentle? I don't know what it's called, is it— _ah_ , it's at the tip of my tongue. Starts with the letter D.”

“ _Demure_ ,” Oikawa corrects and puts that on paper. Just a word to destroy his wildest imaginations, _but not like it’s a big deal_. (A matching eye roll)

“Yeah, _that_.”

“Iwa-chan likes fragile things, huh.” _Strange because you're a caveman._ His foot throbs so he doesn't add that though.

“Oh, maybe someone who can beat ass, too.”

“How's that possible?!”

“It _is_ possible.”

Oikawa dumbly looks at him before scratching the latest word and replacing it with _Demure but can kick ass_. “Alright, anything else?”

Iwaizumi scratches the back of his head, and he actually has the audacity to be shy and _blushy_ about this. Oikawa blushes as well and he hates himself for it. “ _Well_ , ah, _maybe—no_ , not maybe, but—someone who understands me well.”

 _Someone understanding_ , he scribbles those words neatly, coming out fluidly natural from his head, and fondly smiles at the note before snapping out of it.

“Also, they must know how to cook.”

“Oh, I know how to cook ramen, Iwa-chan!”

“Ah, you mean those instant noodles in cups where you just pour hot water in them. _Sure_ , Oikawa.”

Oikawa laughs, because all this is surely laughable. His hand becomes quite heavy from all the writing but he jots that down, too, _Someone who can cook_ , feeling strange being written by a person that's inclined to burn water. “I can't blame, Iwa-chan after all, I mean—I'd love to have someone who knows how to cook, too. Like, who doesn’t?” He smiles at him, eyes forming crescents that are a little too tight on the edges, and looks away when Iwaizumi reciprocates the gesture.

“Good food is a necessity in order not to die.”

 _How knowledgeable._ “Well, I guess I'm going to die, then, is that what you're trying to say?”

“I'll stuff you with good food until you die with overeating instead.”

Oikawa can't help but snicker so hard until Iwaizumi joins him, too, all but contagious and with the heart out. He wonders if anyone can make him laugh like this, and remembers, there are 127 million people in Japan, 7.5 billion in the whole world. “Okay, okay. What else, Iwa-chan?”

“Someone who doesn't take too long in the morning,” Iwaizumi says it like he's always had an eternal grudge about short time during mornings. “Because it's annoying. But that depends, _I don't know_. But yeah. I have _zero_ patience about it.”

Oikawa scoffs. _Funny_ , because if anything, Iwaizumi has all the patience of a saint. “Everyone takes too long in the mornings.”

“Not me. Just _you_.”

Oikawa gasps. “Because!” he reasons out, voice indignant. “Some people actually _care_ about their appearances, Iwa-chan, but you're a Neanderthal trapped in a body of a modern guy so you don't care about those things.”

Iwaizumi only rolls his eyes, a smile trying to break through his mouth, and leans back with his arms crossed. Oikawa tries not to stare at the protrusion of muscles. “Wouldn't you be annoyed if your partner takes too long in the morning?”

“That's just _impossible_.” He shakes his head and Iwaizumi frowns. “Because I'll always take longer than them and we'll out-annoy each other! Since I do that, I guess I would just want someone who is a lot patient with me.” It's unintentional to quote it rather gravely and with a double-meaning. He knows Iwaizumi is staring at him with whatever face he's making, but he shakes that off and furiously scribbles _Doesn't take too long in the morning_ and beams up at him. “Alright! Let's move on to whatever that's left. Someone older or younger?”

Iwaizumi pauses. “Older.”

Oikawa writes that down. _He likes mature people_.

“Also, someone I think I can last long with.”

“Did you mean it the other way, you vulgar Iwa-chan?”

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi throws a pillow to his face but Oikawa dodges it perfectly, tongue stuck out.

He writes _A lifelong partner_  on the pad and feels his heart levitate. There's an odd sense of possession in there that he as so much as doesn't own in the first place, and he feels the spark drift away into uncertainty. No one knows whether he'll be an apt candidate for this, because people are fickle and unstable, always looking for some places better, and he and Iwaizumi will eventually have to end up at the opposite ends of the line.

The edge of the piece of paper whittles in the wind as Oikawa stares at it, and he doesn't notice he's been doing so until Iwaizumi calls his name cautiously.

He startles like a deer in the headlights and blinks once he's out of it. “Ah, sorry. I was just thinking about how Iwa-chan has such good taste in people.”

“Of course, unlike _you_.”

“Huh.” Oikawa looks briefly at Iwaizumi that's caught in between making a face of playful smugness and tittering. A flicker of a glance and he engraves how he has always looked great in the summer, like a child of the sun made to linger under its scorching heat where he stands out the best. _Very radiant._ “I sure _do_ have unrefined tastes.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

The list goes on:

 

  * _Someone who does the laundry._ Oikawa had broken their washing machine 3 months ago.



 

  * _Someone who listens, not hard to pacify._ Or someone not insufferable.



 

  * _Someone who tells me what's on their mind._ _Like truly._ Also, someone not insufferable.



 

  * _Someone that's honest with their feelings._ AKA, someone not insufferable.



 

—and Oikawa festers like the flowers in the backyard garden on how the list grows longer and farther from his self-description. He wonders if he's after all, a masochist for initiating this thing in the first place, because he can just tell Iwaizumi he loves him, and not indirectly give him clue to beg for him to  _somehow_ ask Oikawa out by measly pages of a notepad.

 _Ah_ , well, perhaps he was just being careful—whether revealing a heartfelt, nerve-inducing confession would be worth it only if he knows he likes Oikawa just a bit, too.

The answer is quite clear the moment he wrote it on the first bullet.

 _Someone not insufferable_.

He wonders how he can change that but thinks he might as well just leave Iwaizumi altogether. They have less than two months left to feed themselves up each other's company and he decides to just becomea little shit that he is the entire time left.

It's the night of that afternoon, when they gaze up the night sky at the rooftop with hushed tones and tiptoes lacking parental permission, when Iwaizumi says a rarely peculiar thing. Oikawa swoons, feels a mix of flutter, dread, and sentiment as he listens to it.

“There's joy in attaining something hard to reach—makes you want to persevere more, and when you do, it's the best feeling. _Like a polished toss to a perfect spike._ So, maybe someone that's difficult to achieve, too.”

However the interest, however the curiosity, the dread of wanting to ask for more, Oikawa thinks, _I'm still no match_ , because only a word, only a breath would take for him to be all his.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Iwaizumi tries various apps and Oikawa offers him help because of _how_   _big of a caveman_  he is. He dwells on the opportunity of being shit about it but Iwaizumi barely argues, there's no useless squabbling in that when he continuously asks Oikawa how to do _this_  and _that._ He gladly does even if there's a gnawing feeling in his head to _just drop it all and tell him the truth_ , and shudders to push the nuisance in his head away.

“You're supposed to swipe right if you want to hit them up!”

“But I don't want to, that's why I swiped left.”

Oikawa aids him use Tinder, even for the fact that he doesn't quite use the app himself. He's been on thorough research and frequent bumping on articles to know its main functionalities: _swipe right to approve, swipe left to decline._  Iwaizumi has been swiping everyone left for the past 10 minutes.

“That was a good-looking person! Why did you swipe left?!”

“I'm really not in the mood for this—“

“Nonsense! If you don't want to grow old and gray with me, you need to start initiati—oh he approved. Swipe right, swipe right!”

Iwaizumi distances his ear from Oikawa's loud mouth and slides his thumb along the screen.

“Go to his profile and take a look at his photos.”

They browse the pictures and Oikawa's initial reaction was: _How ikemen._

“Ooh, Iwa-chan, looks like you got yourself a big fish.”

“So? What now?”

“Go say _hi_ , of course, stupid Iwa-chan.”

“I know what I'm doing, dumbass,” Iwaizumi mutters just as a message pops out before he can type something.

_So eager._

**Hey! ;)**  it says, and Iwaizumi types a **Hey :)**  back.

Oikawa scoots closer to Iwaizumi on the arm of the sofa as they wait, arm slung across Iwaizumi's shoulders; he's warm to the touch and Oikawa has the unavoidable urge of wanting to hug him.

Indulgence can't be obvious if it is meant to be done casual.

The next reply is far from what they expected but not coming out as a surprise. _Actually, people were a lot more vulgar before,_  a passing thought occurs and he remembers it vaguely coming from the elderly. It's a disappearing picture of, for the lack of a euphemized word, _a dick_ , and Iwaizumi almost slams his phone across the room. Oikawa nearly backs up and falls on his butt as he doubles over in laughter, clutching whatever leather is left on the tattered sofa to prop himself up.

“What in the world—“

“I'm dead.” Oikawa wheezes as Iwaizumi quickly disconnects from the user.

“If you're setting me up on this dating app shit just so you can trick me like this, I will throw you off the roof.”

“Who knows people are _that_ nasty!” Oikawa wipes a fake tear, being a pretentious sass that he is, and pats Iwaizumi's head for consolation. “Poor Iwa-chan, tainted in his first experience on a dating app.”

“People in here suck.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I reckon, not all people in here suck after all,” Iwaizumi tells him the morning after, when they sit on Iwaizumi's breakfast table with processed pseudo-healthy cereals and canned mixed fruits.

Oikawa gives a curious hum, and then it clicked. “Ah, so did you finally find a match?”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Well, so to say at least, it went well.”

“Explains the dark circles then,” Oikawa points out, stabbing the mixed fruits until they fill his fork.

“Oh man, is it obvious? I am supposed to meet her tomorrow.”

“ _Already?_ ” Oikawa smirks. _Defense mechanism_ , the back of his head says. “So, you scored a girl, huh? I'm curious.”

Iwaizumi snatches his phone from the table before Oikawa can, and arches his eyebrow defensively. “Just the pictures.”

“Well, _duh._ ” An eye roll and he snatches Iwaizumi's phone, well-aware of the 1-0-2-0 passcode, and scrolls away—he makes sure to avoid the conversation at all costs, not because Iwaizumi is cautiously watching him.

 

**Height: 160 cm**

**Fashion Sense: 4.5/5**

**Attends baking school**

**Cute**

 

“Pretty,” Oikawa mumbles, pretends he hasn't swallowed a boulder, and hands Iwaizumi's phone back. There isn't an exchange of conversation in that short moment, it almost feels awkward, and Oikawa takes the silly chance to ask, “Does she make you laugh?”

Iwaizumi doesn't answer right away. _"_ Well, I've been quite enjoying it.”

Oikawa collects his soiled dish, stands up for the sink as he mutters, voice a little off but nonetheless encouraging. “That's good.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“How did it go?”

Iwaizumi just arrived from a date 3 hours ago, clad in the most horrendous garments Oikawa's seen on him.

“What the hell are you wearing?!”

“What!” Iwaizumi disputes as he tugs his gray hoodie off, shirt remained. Oikawa pretends he hadn't just ogled at the sliver of exposed stomach. “You told me to wear comfortable clothes!”

It’s not really as _horrendous_ as Oikawa primarily describes it, but to say it clearly, he is just being completely extravagant to not tolerate simple get-ups as this, especially on dates.

“But not _this_?” He gestures by the hand, grand and seeming offensive like it's the ugliest article he's ever seen. “This is what a rat wears at home, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi scowls but it mixes in a laugh that's hard to deny, and he looks rather constipated and very, very handsome. Oikawa's heart stutters. “I don't even care anymore, I was deliberating what to wear for 30 minutes, but what happened has happened.”

“Did you two take a picture as I requested?”

“As per requested, Your Highness.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, plops on the sofa, and throws Oikawa his phone.

“She's so overdressed,” is what Oikawa says from his unfiltered mouth.

“I know right?” Iwaizumi agrees though.

Oikawa chuckles, whipping his head to look at Iwaizumi—and their faces are close, _too close_ , and he's sure the other is well aware of it. Oikawa does it first, _looks away_ , before Iwaizumi can, because he doesn't need to witness it.

Iwaizumi is so underdressed it's ridiculous, but if Oikawa had ignored his hurt self-esteem and went to his house to dress him nicely, there's no mistaking Iwaizumi and his date will look just like a real couple. He looks tall next to her, and she looks like someone Iwaizumi wants to take care of, small and _demure_ and really calm, and Oikawa can't deny how his heart sinks just a little bit than before.

“You both look good together,” he manages to muster, because that's what Oikawa Tooru is, good at pretense and facades and people-pleasing.

“You think so?” Iwaizumi blushes at this and Oikawa has to look away. “Ah, well, she was really nice, knows how to bake, but there's something that doesn't quite fit. It was kind of awkward all along.”

Oikawa looks up and swallows. “Does she make you laugh?”

Iwaizumi pauses—and then he also glances up, smiles, tender and honest, and Oikawa feels his heart fly back up from the depths. “No, she doesn't.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It's been going on like that: Iwaizumi meeting a few people he talks to online every other few days and Oikawa counting the hours to the end of summer like he's nearing the edge of a cliff. On the information of Iwaizumi's fourth date, he takes a break on sulking in his room, swallows his pride, charges at Iwaizumi’s house, and helps him with his clothes while he listens to his rambles about his third date:

“I told you people who are demure but can kick ass are existent.”

“Iwa-chan, have you been two-timing people?”

Iwaizumi bristles, struggling under Oikawa working on the collar of his shirt. “You said yourself to filter them out, dumbass!”

Oikawa hums. “Now that you said it, it does sound improper.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes heavenward. “Say, what do you think of your date today? Is she simple?”

“Actually. She's pretty laid back.” Iwaizumi huffs out. “I'm a little nervous on this one, though.”

“Oh?” Oikawa feigns nonchalance and drones interestingly. “Did someone finally tickle the great Iwaizumi Hajime's fancy?”

“I don't know,” he groans. “She seems kinda out of my league.”

Oikawa remembers number twenty-something on **Iwaizumi's deflowering list** : _Someone difficult to achieve_. He grabs a dark bomber jacket sprawled on the bed, and is reminded of a fast-approaching autumn.

“I’m out of your league, too. You're just blessed to have me as your best friend.”

“ _Funny_. That's a different one, dumbass.”

 _You're different and you stand on the other side of the line_ , his mind mocks him, but it's not like it's any different. Oikawa chuckles, internally sardonic. “I'm sure it'll go well. You're Iwa-chan for a reason after all.” He smiles honestly.

The look Iwaizumi gives him is unexplainable, so he doesn't bother to look long enough to comprehend it. “All set. You're good to go now.”

Iwaizumi rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks, Oikawa.”

Oikawa softens as much as his heart throbs, and he steps back, prodding Iwaizumi towards the door. “Always welcome, Iwa-chan.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

There’s no use in brooding over a situation he can’t fix. Oikawa goes for a jog that afternoon all the way to the public gym. If he can distract himself successfully, it’ll have to be this, where the excessive stinging of his hand is enough to sidetrack himself into a void mind.

A hard slam of the ball and it lands back to the polished wood with a loud _pang_. Oikawa smirks, all vain, all _disgustingly narcissistic_ , because he knows he is the best when it comes to breaking.

He practices himself into surplus until he’s vomiting and feeling the tenderness of his knee. He knows Iwaizumi will shout at him for this, but familiar noise is better than abandon.

He drops by the convenience store to cool off, torn between Pocari sweat and alkaline water, when he spots the person he’s been fruitlessly avoiding through the glass. He picks both, because he knows Iwaizumi likes sports drinks more, and rings the items up.

The bell tinkles and Oikawa greets him before the assistant does.

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes light up in recognition and he breaks out into an easy smile.

_How wholesome._

“Oh, Oikawa.” He points towards a plastic bottle. “Is that for me?”

He gives a cheerful hum and turns to the cashier. “Don’t mind the plastic bag. Thank you.”

“So, where have you been?” Iwaizumi asks as they’re both seated down the curb just by the store. It’s relatively quiet for an afternoon, quite odd without students loitering around the streets.

“Gym. Went for a jog, too.”

“Ah.”

“How was it?”

The brief smile on Iwaizumi’s face is more than enough to convey that it went well. It doesn’t come out as a surprise though, because he’s always been in good graces with people, always instinctively satisfactory in adjusting himself to different kinds— the easy and the difficult. _Just like a certain someone_.

“It was great.”

“I see.” He rips the lid of his own bottle open and chugs the whole thing halfway, just so one can avoid talking more. He is kind of tired of discussing, and realizes Mondays truly _are_ reserved for rest days.

The bottle drops and the remaining contents spill on the way of putting it down. No scolding, the customary _tsk_ doesn’t happen, and yet he gets a hand grabbing onto his.

“Muscle spasms again?” Iwaizumi’s hand stays there, and Oikawa thinks, _how dare he do something like this._ But he doesn’t protest. Indulgence always seems to creep in first place. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“It just happened recently,” he responds impassively, lets Iwaizumi massage his hand, and vaguely makes a mental catalog:

 

**Reasons why I like him:**

_Reason #1: He takes care of me._

 

“I told you to never wet your hands after practice,” Iwaizumi grouses and grouses even more when he feels a wet drop on his arm. “You’re _gross_. Did you at least bring a face towel?”

Oikawa is dormant when Iwaizumi whips out a handkerchief from his pocket. It vaguely smells of the fabric conditioner his mother always uses— _a childhood scent_ —as he dabs it gently on his forehead. The motion is tender, it tickles, and Oikawa is only left to think, _how dare he do something like this._

“It’s like having two bodies and I am more aware that you sweat so much. How can you forget at least one essential thing as measly as this?” Iwaizumi nags on. It’s funny how his words come out brusque, and yet his every shift is calm, like he executes everything with utmost kindness.

 

_Reason #2: He’s rough, but very gentle._

 

“Isn’t having two bodies difficult at all? You’ll have to take good care of the two; isn’t it a hassle?” Oikawa poses a joke, but he has to know somehow. _Aren’t you tired of me yet?_

“It’s manageable.” Iwaizumi’s smile is fond, like replaying an old movie’s scene. _There_ , he gets his answer and Oikawa seethes frustratingly, imposing the hope down. It doesn’t work though, so he decides, _fuck it_ , and goes to hug him.

Iwaizumi startles, freezes, but Oikawa waits and waits, embraces him some more, until he melts and hugs him back, _just a little tighter_. It’s kind of hard to breathe, but then it’s probably the constriction of his own heart that makes it.

 “What’s with you all of a sudden?” Iwaizumi gently ruffles his hair. “You stink, stinky.”

“I need some energy,” Oikawa mumbles, but the energy doesn’t come, instead it makes him a little more lethargic, a little more hopeless, because Iwaizumi just gives him everything he asks without second thoughts. “And you smell worse.”

 

 _Reason #3: He’s very,_ very _kind._

 

Iwaizumi chuckles, and his breath tickles Oikawa’s ear; he swears he can feel lips subtly grazing his earlobe. “So cute.”

“ _So cute_ ,” Oikawa mocks him and pulls away with a face hotter than the weather. Iwaizumi stands up with a residual smile and comes to haul him up by the pull of a hand—it’s warm as expected, but it also smells like an unfamiliar café downtown. Oikawa tries not to pay heed to it and to the limp in his walk.

“I’m going to meet her again tomorrow.”

“I suppose it went well.” Oikawa pries his hand away from his and stuffs both into the pockets of his training pants.

“She requested it; was really nice that I couldn’t turn down.”

_How classic._

Well, Iwaizumi has always been this well-mannered. _No surprise_ , he tries convincing himself. “So typical of you. How was she like?”

“She’s cool, good fashion sense, quite sarcastic. But—“ Iwaizumi hums with a distinct crease of his eyebrows, a subtle tilt on the head when he can’t quite put a ring onto something. Oikawa waits for him, and the fisting of his hands say so. “—yeah.”

He unclenches them. “I see. She seems like someone you’re prone to like.”

Oikawa can feel Iwaizumi’s gaze linger on him but he heads on, eyes forward, unassuming. _A defense mechanism_ , his mind supports. “You’re limping.”

“You can scold me about it,” he says.

 _Because familiar noise is better than abandon_.

Iwaizumi sighs, and it sounds like something Oikawa would do when he’s tired, too. “Stay seated. I’ll get us a taxi.”

“Do you know how expensive gasoline is today?”

“Shut up or I’ll drag you all the way home.” Iwaizumi grumbles.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t drag Oikawa or lug him or throw him onto his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, because as much as Iwaizumi is rough, he’s also gentle. Hot-tempered but also temperate.

Oikawa finds a seat on a planting strip, breaks the laws for all he cares, and sits on the edge of it. Iwaizumi inconspicuously chuckles at him, clandestine like a kid almost to be caught in act, and Oikawa laughs, too. Subtly, he wonders if someone can make him laugh like this, but then again, his best friend has always been a joy to be with.

 

_Reason #4: He’s someone I can trust my whole life._

_Reason #5: He makes me laugh._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Oikawa appears at Iwaizumi’s bedroom door just thirty minutes before he departs for his date the next day. Iwaizumi opens it for him, half-dressed up with clean jeans and a ratty old band shirt, and Oikawa realizes he looks just as shitty himself, if not more, like he just got out of bed after a whole week of lying down.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa greets enthusiastically. “Good morning!”

Iwaizumi grimaces but opens the door wider to welcome him nonetheless. “What brings you here?” He then juts his head towards the thing in Oikawa’s hand. “And what’s that?”

“What brings me here? I figured out Iwa-chan’s dates are only successful if you dress nicely so I’ll help you with that today.” Iwaizumi almost bristles but Oikawa proceeds with his grand entrance. He kicks his door close and shows him the item. “These just came in today from the mail. I brought you glasses!”

Iwaizumi stares at him suspiciously. “Did you buy these for me?”

“Of course not,” Oikawa scoffs, because it’s kind of true, and he kind of dwells in the chance that he can sound in denial as much as he wants. “I forgot I ordered these online, but then I thought, _these would_ _look good on Iwa-chan!_ So I’m just going to give them to you.”

“I’m not gonna wear something as ridiculous as those though.”

“Iwa-chan!” He gasps. “Glasses are the supreme accessory man has made! What if you’ll be diagnosed with astigmatism and grow ugly, would you prefer going half-blind and an unfashionable old man instead?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and proceeds to go through his wardrobe. “If you say so, sweetie.”

Oikawa's mouth clogs at that, but even so, he follows suit, trailing like a puppy at his owner’s heels.

“Can you help me with this then, Oh Great One? I’m not sure what I should wear.”

“I knew you'd need my help! The Oikawa-sama always appears in convenient times after all.”

Iwaizumi chuckles and Oikawa looks at him with such an excited smile. He just doesn’t know why a reaction always has to come out on impulse.

“I’ll leave it all to you, since you are so keen on this and will always protest on anything I suggest anyway. Just don’t choose something shitty.”

“How dare you! Do you really think I’d embarrass you like that?”

“A lot of times.”

Oikawa goes for his arm but Iwaizumi swiftly catches his wrist before he can take the blow. Iwaizumi keeps it there, unmoving, and the frown on Oikawa’s face dissipates.

“Hey.”

Oikawa blinks. “Hm?”

“Why don't you go out on a date? Go out for once.”

Oikawa’s mouth dries, because never in his whole week did he expect him to question this, because he never heard it from him for once, and he wonders if he’s just as keen as Oikawa in bringing his best friend a date, _an apt candidate for a lifelong partner_. His stomach churns because he doesn’t really want any kind of _anything_ right now, and he would rather much prefer wallowing in his own misery.

“We don’t always have to be on equal footing,” he says and Iwaizumi loosens his hand. “I don’t have to have a date if Iwa-chan has one. Besides, there are still a lot of series to binge-watch. I'd rather have my summer be fruitful.”

He scoffs and releases Oikawa’s wrist. His hand drops limply at his sides, and he thinks: _Finally_ , until Iwaizumi reaches and gently thumbs the dark circles under his eyes. “Is that why you're lacking sleep? You look like shit.”

Oikawa freezes that he doesn’t take the offense at all. And all that goes in his head: _how dare he do something like this_.

"I purposely lack sleep so I can stop growing and you can grow ahead of me."

He can trust is impulse wit after all. He can deal with any physical blow right after.

It arrives as Iwaizumi kicks him. "Stop being a shit. I’ll kill you if you pass out."

“Iwa-chan, that’s like saying I’ll throw you off the roof if you fall off the roof.” His eyebrows scrunch briefly before he rummages through Iwaizumi’s endless garments. “You have nice clothes. Why don’t you wear them often?”

He shrugs. “It’s not like there is always a special occasion.”

“But everyday with me is a special occasion!” Oikawa exclaims jokingly, ready to hear whatever backfire Iwaizumi’s going to throw at him, and yet all he gets is silence. He pretends to laugh it off even if the thought of crossing the line is viciously crawling up in his head.

He goes to grab the white dress shirt instead, and it’s when Iwaizumi speaks up—it’s more unfair how he has a lingering smile on his face.

“But you don’t care what I wear, do you?”

Oikawa’s breath stops. “That's right.” And he nods. “No matter how ratty you look, I still think you look decent for a caveman.”

“Well, you look like a gorilla that hasn’t bathed for weeks.”

“ _Well_ , you look—“

Iwaizumi crosses his arms, leans on the closet, and raises his eyebrow to provoke him. And even with that ratty old band shirt he’s wearing, just a tad close before it’s made for the dumpster, Oikawa thinks he looks effortlessly the best.

“—never mind.” He pushes two hangers to his chest: the white dress shirt and a denim jacket—just perfect for the forthcoming fall. “Wear these. Jacket over the dress shirt. Go.”

“I know, don’t push me, dumbass.”

 

_Reason #6: Uniform clothes, decent clothes, ratty home clothes—he always looks effortlessly the best._

 

Oikawa is lying limply on Iwaizumi’s bed, having forgotten his phone at home, when Iwaizumi comes out of his bathroom ten minutes later. He’s not yet fully dressed up, but he got his dress shirt tucked in. _The caveman even knows how to dress himself_ , Oikawa funnily thinks before sitting up and feeling a slight wrench in his chest. It’s amusing to think, just how it would be, if Iwaizumi dresses himself for him. He undeniably looks good, too.

“What do you think?” Iwaizumi asks, sounding a little anxious.

 _You don’t have to_ , Oikawa doesn’t say, because everything just stays in his head and padlocked to his heart, even when he idly states _Reason #7_ :

_Just effortless._

 

“I really have such good tastes. Be thankful of me that you look like a civilized person,” he says instead, because his mouth will always decide to ruin everything.

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi grumbles and steps forward so Oikawa can finish grooming him.

He chooses to stay soundless this time and tries hard to suppress the annoying tingles in his fingers while he works on the last two buttons. He studies them shortly before deciding to unbutton the topmost.

“Alright, you look like a pimp and ready to go.”

Iwaizumi impassively stares at him.

“Just kidding!” He refutes before he can take another blow elsewhere and whips out the gold circle glasses from the side table. Iwaizumi stares at them skeptically. “Just shut up and let me! They'll look good, I promise.”

“If I look shit I’ll break these in half.”

“Sure, sure,” Oikawa dismisses him and slides them on Iwaizumi’s face.

He had been on Pinterest, browsing some good clothing combinations, when this item had arrived in the morning. Undeniably so, he had also imagined what Iwaizumi would look like in these, but Oikawa has always been a believer that personal witness is better than picture.

He takes a step back and studies him up and down, and then smiles.

 

_Reason #8:_

 

“ _Perfect_.”

 

Iwaizumi rubs his neck, looking a little lost. Oikawa chuckles and prods him forward. “Go take a look in the mirror, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi does, and Oikawa almost laughs at how comical he looks like being quite surprised. Iwaizumi catches him, frowning while he adjusts his jacket offhandedly. “It’s alright.”

 _How Iwa-chan_ , Oikawa thinks, _I know he thinks he looks good._

He sighs and plops on Iwaizumi’s bed. He’s always liked it because he bounces up and down before his whole body settles. “ _Boo_. What a way to compliment my effort.”

Iwaizumi follows him, too, just leaving a polite distance between them, and Oikawa doesn’t even scold him for ruining his get up. They both stare up at the ceiling filled with various stickers and _glow-in-the-dark_ s that Oikawa had insisted to put on years before; and it’s when he speaks up.

“Say, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi glances at him. “Mn?”

“Whatever happens today, you’ll tell me, right?” Oikawa turns to him. “In detail.”

“Why?” Iwaizumi asks, shifting on the bed just so he can look at him properly.

“Because I should know juicy details first before anyone else, Iwa-chan! That’s what being best friends are.”

“No.” He shakes his head— “I was asking why you were helping me…” –and then aimlessly waves his hand in the air. “…with this whole dating thing.”

“I don’t even know,” Oikawa drones, because surely enough, he really doesn’t—but Iwaizumi listens either way. “Why I initiated it. When I could have left the decision on your own whether you're ready or not. But even so, I pushed you, even with the thought of Iwa-chan having a girlfriend, or just anyone—an apt candidate for a lifelong partner…” he pauses momentarily and wills himself to look back, feigns a casual chortle. “…kind of hurts a little.”

Iwaizumi stays silent; Oikawa doesn't expect him to say anything.

Looking at the time might have been a saving grace. Oikawa might have thanked the heavens, but he did, for a split second, wish Iwaizumi has said something.

It’s a few minutes until he leaves.

“Ah, Iwa-chan, you might be late, just in case.”

“Ah—“ he stutters as he hurriedly gets up and smoothens his clothes. Oikawa goes to quickly adjust his collar, and before he can overthink about Iwaizumi’s boring gaze, he dashes to the door to hurry him up.

“Doesn’t the train board in 30 minutes?”

“Oh, Hajime.”

The two whirl around to the sound of Iwaizumi’s mother and her peeking through the doorframe.

“I’m getting your laundry. Do you have anywhere else to go?”

“Uh, I’m—“

“He’s going on a date, Okaa-san!”

Iwaizumi furiously reddens at this and throws a withering glare at Oikawa.

Iwaizumi’s mother grins at his son and then turns to Oikawa with a confused look. “Ah, Tooru, aren’t you getting dressed yet?”

Oikawa startles at this and furiously waves his hands around. “Oh! No—um, Iwa-chan’s going with someone else, actually.”

Her eyes widen in realization, like she seems to have grasped the situation already, and awkwardly laughs. “I see. Go and have fun, Hajime.”

“W-will do, ‘kaa-san.”

They descend the stairs together, Oikawa just a few steps ahead of Iwaizumi and his hood pulled over his head. Iwaizumi pulls it off and Oikawa wordlessly puts it back on. Another tug from Iwaizumi but Oikawa remains blank, without complaints, and tugs it back over.

It’s when Iwaizumi does another attempt does he reel and face him with a look of annoyance.

“What’s with you? You’re being _me_ all of a sudden.”

Iwaizumi catches Oikawa’s arm before he stumbles and cracks his head open and pinches his nose. He’s still standing on the last run of the stairs, and it’s just amusing how Iwaizumi looks taller than him right now. Oikawa surprisingly doesn’t act petty this time—he stays quieted up in his self-discovery on why anyone will want a taller partner.

“What’s with _you_ being grumpy all of a sudden?” Iwaizumi rubs the funny crease between his eyebrows and snickers mockingly. “So cute.”

“How hypocrite, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa grumbles, feels the heat rise up to his neck, and avoids his gaze sideways. “I’m not being grumpy.”

“Do you want pizza when I get home?”

“No.” _Just get home fast, is all_. “You should go; you’re going to be late.”

“Not until you un-grump yourself.”

“Did you just say _un-grump_?” Oikawa states weirdly, and the stiffness of his face begins to soften. “Why had you thought of that first before I did when I’m more apt on using it against you?”

“Because originality, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi pulls his cheeks up playfully with two fingers until Oikawa breaks into a resigned smile. Iwaizumi returns it, his own speaking achievement and relief. “ _There_.”

Oikawa’s heart just splits in half; but it’s not like wondering if anyone else can easily make him come around like this is anything new. Either way, he pushes on the most childish shit-eating grin he can pull off and makes a petty request.

“Get me pizza when you get home, okay?”

Iwaizumi punches his arm and goes for the door. “I knew this was a tactic all along.”

Oikawa wheezes and catches up to him, just leaving the usual polite distance between them as he walks along by his side. Iwaizumi is laughing for some dumb reason he can’t really zero on, but Oikawa is, too, and figures out maybe there really will be no one else. A companion like this is just hard to find.

Oikawa waves at him once they reach the junction by the household gate, utters a “Good luck” and an “I’ll see you around”, and is about to leave for home when—

“Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi has his hand on his. It’s difficult filtering through half-formed thoughts just for a decent excuse when he’s always had this effect on him. _A call, a hold of the hand_ —just anything between them—and it will always be giving in.

“Huh?” Oikawa pipes up feebly, a little hopeful as he waits.

“I’ll be home fast,” Iwaizumi says, and whatever he will say next: _Okay_ , Oikawa will respond. “Wait for me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Iwaizumi finds him on the rooftop.

“You’re here?”

“Of course. Your mom told me you’ve been sulking all day,” he snorts. “Did you lose over a game again? That one where you can’t beat the final level?”

“Mm.” Oikawa shrugs, because there’s really no far difference. Everything kind of falls like a metaphor anyway.

Iwaizumi looks at him weirdly.

The night sky is clear, and as Iwaizumi makes careful steps towards the gutter, Oikawa feels his heart glide from the serenity of the night and back down to his chest. His torso feels quite heavy now.

“Say, Iwa-chan,” he mutters softly, face placid in the midst of misbehaved thoughts. "You told me once that there's joy in attaining someone so unreachable; I've thought about it, and I guess you're right." He gazes up at Iwaizumi and everything stays there; neither is breaking eye-contact and the wind remains stagnant. “Because even if you can't achieve that someone, there's still joy in watching them from afar.”

It's silent, comfortable with the quiet pondering and loud thoughts. Iwaizumi sits down beside him, the customary distance polite enough to avoid overwhelm and overthinking. The stars are out tonight, beautiful even in a thousand mile's distance, and Oikawa lingers in the sentiment.

“Does she make you laugh, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi subtly nods. “Yeah.”

Oikawa looks away and back to the sky, smile enigmatic but nonetheless honest. It had taken a long acceptance—maybe not that long, just a few weeks of reflection—but he's understood now that it doesn't have to take a filtering of 127 million people to find who makes Iwaizumi laugh, or smile, or be himself, other than him. He is tempted to say, _'good, because you deserve to laugh, you deserve the best'_ , but it's his heart and unsaid words that keep him weighed down. Maybe he is better quieted up, and the silence is better an adhesive that will keep them both at bay.

Iwaizumi cuts his thoughts off at that moment, his words whirring along remaining hope and through perpetual depreciation.

“But she's not you.”

Iwaizumi is tranquil, his funny, fake glasses that undeniably looked good on him are gone now, and he can see the forest in his eyes much better, even more prominent under the moonlight of the clear night sky. Oikawa gazes at him and it's like falling in love all over again—at the stage where you just ponder why you did in the first place and say, _yeah, I think I’ve always known why_.

“You know,” Iwaizumi starts and Oikawa's gaze zeroes on the annoying flicker of a lamp post nearby, but he listens—all ears, all heart. “I’ve always wondered how nothing seems to work out no matter how most of the aspects on this...  _list_ are already in the form of the people I’ve met. They should be perfect for me, compatible at least, heck, I should be dating them already, because they’re already there, right? And yet... _yet_ , you know what? I still look at you.”

No hard pounding, no weak beating to hypotension, no levitating. Oikawa's heart remains calm, unfaltering,  _steady beeping._ Devoid of heartaches.

“Whenever I read that stupid list and then think of my best friend, who's ironically the complete opposite of what I ideally want to have, it makes me want to throw up. I want to say, _this can’t be possible_ , because I want it to be him.”

A chuckle escapes Oikawa's mouth and his initial response comes out unplanned. A bad-timed impulse wit. “I can't cook. Who's gonna feed you with proper food?”

Iwaizumi snorts. “I'll eat takeout with you forever if you'll say yes,” he says, nonchalant and subtly smug Oikawa can't help but laugh, chest light.

He arches his eyebrow to prod him, but there's a smile keenly waiting to be freed. “To what?”

Iwaizumi knocks his shin hard but goes and impulsively hugs him when he executes his usual dramatics, and thinks: _it's really heartbreaking_ , because Iwaizumi is warm and gentle with his guard down even for a split second _, but in such a good way._

“Sorry. Go on a date with me?”

Oikawa pulls away to blink at him, a little appalled for some reason, and blurts out, "Is that it?"

Iwaizumi glares at him, bewildered. "Hah?"

 _Right_. Oikawa colors to embarrassment, because not like he is expecting something more _(a matching mental eye roll)_. “Nothing, I—“ He shrugs and remembers his mother's words:

 

_Count your blessings, Tooru, some things are more than enough._

 

“Okay, I'll go on a date with you.”

"Also," Iwaizumi adds, clearing his throat, and Oikawa's heart stops all at once.

"Hm?"

"Will you go out with me, Oikawa?" Iwaizumi's words sift gently through his fringe—it has gotten quite longer—and when he pulls back to wait for an answer, he's thoroughly embarrassed, adorably intimidated, and completely opposite to what Oikawa expects him of. The sentiment rings familiar and deep, and he thinks that lists and expectations don't matter when the right people are in front of you.

" _Number one:_ I'm insufferable. _Number two:_ I have a complex fashion. _Number three:_ I'm taller than you. _Number four:_ I take too long in the mornings—”

“– _number five and beyond:_ you're full of shit, you can't cook, you're very fussy, disgustingly narcissistic, you give me headaches on an  _hourly_ basis... whatever all that's bothering your head," Iwaizumi counts off with such ease Oikawa almost feels utterly offended, but then he remembers, _he is just Iwa-chan being Iwa-chan after all_. Iwaizumi breathes. _In. Out._ Oikawa counts them. "But you understand me, _you make me laugh_ , you're sort of amazing..." He laughs, warm and deep, like a duvet in a cold, rainy night, and Oikawa thoroughly wilts and feels his nape burn. "Maybe someone I can last long with, too."

"Did you mean it the other way, you vulgar Iwa-chan?" His words are muffled underneath folded arms.

Iwaizumi gives him a light smirk and Oikawa whips his head right away, hot rush of blood crawling up to his ears.

Iwaizumi coats his fisted hand with his own, shifting a little closer to face him. Oikawa burrows his head more into his makeshift pit but Iwaizumi's persistence is as admirable as a wooer’s; a hold of a hand, a kiss to the knuckles, and Oikawa looks at him. _One look, one breath, and a kiss to boot, and he's all his._

"Go out with me, Tooru?"

"Okay," he croaks, amazed at how he still has the effort to be composed like this. "I'll go out with you."

 

 

* * *

 

  

 **[23:21] Oikawa:** you forgot it’s pizza night

 **[23:23] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:** why are you still up

 **[23:23] Oikawa:** wheres my pizza D: <

 **[23:23] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:**  i forgot

 **[23:23] Oikawa:** ok im sad now

 **[23:24] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:** why are u sad

 **[23:24] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:** want me to come over

 **[23:24] Oikawa:** please!! i want my hug too

 **[23:25] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:** why are u so petty

 **[23:25] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:** ok. give me 5 mins

 **[23:26] Oikawa:** omg （´・｀ ）♡

 **[23:26] Oikawa:** are u rsrs

 **[23:27] Oikawa:** *srs

 **[23:27] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:** yes

 **[23:28] Oikawa:** im blushing

 **[23:28] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:** haha

 **[23: 28] Oikawa:** wru!!

 **[23:31] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:** hold on im tryign to sneak out

 **[23:31] Oikawa:** be careful or you’ll hit your empty head

 **[23:32] Iwa-chan** **♡** **:** i’ll smash you

 **[23:32] Iwa-chan** **♡** : ill go thru the balcony help me up

 **[23:33] Oikawa:** it’s dangerous! I’ll get u thru thr door

 **[23:33] Oikawa** : iwachan?

 **[23:34] Oikawa** : iwachan!

 

“Hey.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“Shh!”

Indeed, Iwaizumi got a couple of minutes later like he’d said, and he’s hanging by a thread with his hand on the banister. Oikawa immediately goes to haul him steady before he dies, because 3 meters down below would be a bad fall. Once Iwaizumi has his standing balanced, Oikawa tackles him into a hug.

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi snickers and hugs him back. “Miss me already?”

“I needed my power hug.”

“We just hugged an hour ago.”

Oikawa’s face fires up and he resorts to mumbling grumpily, “Where’s my pizza?”

“I’m here and you got your hug,” Iwaizumi says, carding his soft locks. It’s slightly damp. “what else do you need more?”

“Why do you suddenly sound conceited?” Oikawa pulls away and crosses his arms defensively. “Where did you learn that kind of attitude from?”

“Boyfriend,” Iwaizumi simply answers.

Oikawa smacks a hand to his face. “Thanks. Are you coming inside?”

“Nah. I—“ Iwaizumi shrugs and juts his thumb towards his room. “I have to get back.”

“Why?”

He frowns. “Why what?”

“You’re not staying over?” Oikawa pouts, making Iwaizumi roll his eyes.

“It’s late. Nine A.M. tomorrow,” he says. “Okay?”

“A minute hasn’t even passed yet!” he whines. “I’m already feeling lonely.”

“We can talk through phone call.” Iwaizumi briefly runs his fingers through Oikawa’s damp hair. “Did you shower? Idiot. Do you want to die an early death?”

“Only if you’ll come with me.”

Iwaizumi snorts.

“You’ll stay over tomorrow night, right?” Oikawa asks hopefully. “Pizza night?”

“Pizza night,” Iwaizumi says firmly and begins to carefully step off Oikawa’s balcony. “Hey, Oikawa?”

“Yeah?”

Iwaizumi looks like he wants to say something, and the way he does—making _that_ face that Oikawa is scared to tie up—keeps him on the edge, so he waits for him with such lingering hope.

“What is it, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, and then he stutters, falters—decides to just keep it closed. “Never mind, just—“ He waves him over. “Come here.”

Oikawa steps close until he’s within Iwaizumi’s reach, and what he receives in just a few shifts of his feet is more than what he could ask for.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Iwaizumi mumbles against his lips. Oikawa can feel his smile through it and almost melts in that short moment. It had kind of felt like forever. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa says, dazed. “I won’t.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been 10 minutes since Oikawa’s been going on between peeking through his window and fixing his hair in the mirror. And just as he does, he has an initial heart attack when he spots Iwaizumi’s figure heading towards their gate. _Why is he so early anyway?_

He’s never bolted out of the house so fast.

He throws a quick goodbye to his mom who’s in the middle of making some wholesome breakfast; Oikawa feels a little regretful and decides to just overlook the incoming rupture in his stomach.

“Tooru, at least eat some breakfast.”

“Iwa-chan’s waiting outside!”

 He is a little out of breath when he opens the gate. Iwaizumi looks up from where he’s occupied with his phone and startles.

“Oh. You’re early?”

Oikawa focuses on feverishly fixing his crooked belt, not looking at him. “Am I? Didn’t you say you hated it when people take too long?”

Iwaizumi halts and pockets his phone—he observes how Oikawa’s collar is a little haphazard, his hair almost unruly, and the concealer under his eyes just ridiculously uneven.

He thinks of such a common reason and sighs. “I didn’t specifically say it was you though. C’mere.”

Oikawa treads closer, letting Iwaizumi pull him by the arm so he can fix his collar.

“You know,” he starts as he smoothes the fabric. “I’ve been wasting so many minutes since birth so I could wait for you. More than a month until you were born and it was the longest I’ve ever waited. I don’t think it’d be convenient if that routine had to change.”

 _Routine_. Iwaizumi’s right. He wonders why he even bothered when this has always been the normal way for them.

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa croaks.

“Did you wake up late?” Iwaizumi interjects, and Oikawa has the nerve to look guilty. He lets out a nervous chuckle and Iwaizumi merely sighs while he begins to fix his hair this time, just the way Oikawa likes it. It’s funny how he does it better and quicker than the owner does. “Good. More sleep then.”

Oikawa opens his mouth to protest, or just babble something that will get the fluster out of his system, but Iwaizumi makes it even more complicated when he grabs his chin with firm fingers. “Idiot. You can’t even put it right this time, stupid,” he mutters while he softly evens his concelear out.

“Iwa-chan, don’t say two insults at a time.”

“Stupid Shittykawa. Idiot,” Iwaizumi teases, handsome smile riling him up even more. Oikawa can’t even be mad at him. “That’s three at a time.”

And their faces are close, _too close_ , but Oikawa doesn’t look away unlike before, and prays that Iwaizumi might kiss him again or something.

“Did you eat breakfast?” He asks instead.

Oikawa shakes his head. “Are you going to scold me?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi firmly says and drags him by a headlock as they begin to walk. Oikawa squeaks and flails around as he attempts to fix his hair, but it always results a failure, and just as he comprehends it, this kind of feels like such a normal thing. “I’m also going to buy you bread on the way.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Figures out having a date with your best-friend-turned-boyfriend is just similar to going on casual days out with him in the weekends. There’s nothing much to visit when you’ve basically lived your whole life in Miyagi, but on their last itinerary, Iwaizumi brings Oikawa to Tsukihama Beach.

There haven’t been much tourists and beachgoers as it is at the precipice of autumn. Oikawa and Iwaizumi both situate themselves just where the waves can reach their feet, and their hands are held like it’s natural and made for them to do.

Iwaizumi creates a makeshift seat for them to sit on with his jacket. Oikawa insists that they just sit on the sand instead but Iwaizumi protests they wouldn’t want to smell like rotten seafood on the train home.

Oikawa shifts closer, the warm heat of the sun about to lay down making his cheeks aflame, but Iwaizumi is warmer against the harsh pace of the wind.

“Say, Iwa-chan.”

“Mn.”

“University is coming in a few weeks,” he glances up, face smug but voice honestly curious. “Aren’t you going to miss me?”

“No.”

Oikawa pouts. “So cold.”

Iwaizumi chuckles, pulls him closer by his shoulders, and Oikawa’s head falls on the crook of his neck. “Hey, Oikawa.”

“Hm?”

“Bunkyo and Minato aren’t actually that far,” Iwaizumi mutters, looking into the horizon falling dimmer and dimmer by the second. And at that moment when Oikawa’s gaze is glued to him, Iwaizumi looks at him, too. “We should rent somewhere in the middle. Together.”

His smile is slow but gradual, and once he does it, Oikawa can’t pull himself together, not the smile, not the giddiness he feels. Iwaizumi makes a mutual look, gives a mutual feeling, and they both reach halfway to share a short, lingering kiss. It’s sweet and it makes his cold toes warm.

“Are you going to cook for me?”

“Dumbass, I’ll even boil you in hot water,” Iwaizumi grumbles and just a silly statement alone makes Oikawa laugh an entire minute. In that moment, he takes the thought in that perhaps no one can ever make him feel like this, because he won’t ever even bother filtering 127 million people in the first place.

“So, what do you say?”

“Okay,” Oikawa nods, feels another fresh page of his life flip over. But this is different—it’s not about him anymore; it’s about _them_. “Let’s live together.”

 

_Reason number-something:_

 

_An apt candidate for a lifelong partner._

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @ [sund0wns](https://sund0wns.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


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